


cold

by chrkrose



Series: constant. [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrkrose/pseuds/chrkrose
Summary: He knew, from the moment they arrived North, that The stranger was waiting with open arms for one of them to fall into His embrace.Still, when he sees the sword slicing through Brienne’s back, and the red blood tainting the snow beneath her feet, his whole world falls apart with the sound of her body falling to the ground.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: constant. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555945
Comments: 29
Kudos: 271





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trust me 
> 
> \- For elloise.

He knew, from the moment they arrived North, that The stranger was waiting with open arms for one of them to fall into His embrace. 

He knew about the unlikely possibility that the two of them would escape whole and safe. That most likely this white end of the world would become a grave for one of them. 

Still, when he sees the sword slicing through Brienne’s back, and the red blood tainting the snow beneath her feet, his whole world falls apart with the sound of her body falling to the ground.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ “J-.. Jai-..”  _ blood comes in spurts from inside her mouth, the sound of it sickening. 

_ “Shhh.”  _ He presses his hand to the wound. Around him, people are fighting, screaming, grunting, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because Brienne’s blood is soaking her clothes and furs and his hand and the snow beneath her is dark red.

_ “Jaim-...”  _ One huge freckled hand grabs his, still pressing her wound.

He ignores her, tries to get her to stand so he can carry her back, but his stump is useless in holding her weight without his hand to support it. And the blood. The blood.  _ Red. _

He’s about to tell her to help him get her on her feet, _stubborn stupid bloody wench_ _stop talking and help me,_ but when he looks at her face, her eyes are lost to him. Staring ahead at something he can’t see. Unfocused. Empty.

Lifeless.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Her body is cold where they put her, the room dark and stale. Her furs are gone. So is the rest of her clothes, a blanket covering her from the eyes of the rest of the men talking and shouting inside.

Jaime stands beside where Brienne is, looking at her pale face. 

There’s no heat to her cheeks. There’s no blush, blotchy, spreading through her face and chest. There’s no movement from her chest breathing in and out. Her innocent eyes, the astonishing blue, incapable of hiding her feelings and thoughts, lay half open and empty on her face. Staring. Staring ahead where he can’t see. 

Where he can’t reach. Where he can’t follow.

_ “Kingslayer”  _ Jon snow says from somewhere beside him. 

The word should cut him open. Make him bleed. 

He feels nothing. 

_ “Melisandre… she saw in the flames-” _

Jaime’s voice, when he speaks, it’s more a rasp than a growl.

_ “I care  _ nothing _ about your gods”  _

Why should he? There are no gods. There’s nothing. There was only Brienne, and all the times she should have talked and hissed his name in anger and annoyance alike, all the times he should have seen her skin flush with the heat or the cold or the embarrassment of his crude words, all the times she should have draw breath and all the times she should have walked and lead him to where she was going and he would have followed, Seven help him, he would have, and all the times he should have... 

_ He should have what? _

_ “Melisandre will bring her back”  _

At that Jaime turns his head towards Jon.

_ “What?” _

_ “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Melisandre will bring her back. We need her. Both of you. The flames on your swords… are gone. We need it back.” _

Jaime cares nothing about the swords, and cares less about what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. 

Because of that, his hand around Jon Snow’s neck feels only the natural consequence of the words that just passed by the boy’s lips.

_ “Do you  _ mock _ me!? I don’t need a bloody flame to shove that sword right through your-“  _

_ “She brought me back! I died and she brought me back, and she’ll do the same for your lady!” _

Jaime stares at him, and then looks around the room. The men are silent. The red witch takes a step towards them, and then another, until she’s beside him, looking down at Brienne’s body. 

Jaime’s hand let goes of Jon Snow’s neck.

The red witch’s hand caresses Brienne’s hair.

Jaime thinks about cutting the woman’s hand off.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It doesn’t work. Brienne still lays on the same place, now clean of all the blood from her wound and the dirt from the fight, her hair wet from the water used to wash it. 

Her skin is still too cold for the touch, too white.

Her eyes still empty. Long after Melisandre and Jon Snow leave him alone, he stares at her, and nothing changes. 

She’s not back. She won’t be. She’s gone. 

Brienne. Gone. Lost to him.

_ Where have you gone?  _ He thinks, staring at her face, her eyes still unfocused and half open. Looking ahead.  _ Looking at what?  _

_ Wench. _

_ Where have you gone? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaime sleeps on the chair placed beside Brienne’s body. 

Dreams about sapphire blue waters and the warmth of a body filled with freckles in his arms, tasting sunlight with his tongue.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He doesn’t know what wakes him. The room, as it is, it’s still the same. Empty now only for him and Brienne. 

Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail propped on the wall by the door. 

He stands up, looking down at her. 

Remembers another time, another vigil where he had gone away inside and part of him went to her. Prayed to the gods he never believed in to keep her safe. 

He should have known then. He should have. What it meant.

Should have known what it was, when the thought of her, the feel of her name on his tongue, the sight of her face, he should have known what it meant when all of it brought him peace and set his heart racing like anything had ever done before, not even his sister. 

When the whole that was Brienne meant losing himself in thoughts of her presence filling the spaces she could had been occupying it he hadn’t sent her away.

When seeing her after so long brought him to his feet and made him dizzy with the feel of her so very close.

When the thought of existing in a world where she didn’t was unbearable. 

Once, a long time ago, he had thought he couldn’t go on without whom he thought to be his other half. 

_ When did it change? _ He wonders.

When did it change from  _ two halves of a whole _ to Jaime and him alone, and him not able to think of a world where the person who made him whole was no longer drawing breath?

His arrogance was his downfall. Thinking there was still time, thinking there was still more to their story, thinking there was still a road ahead for them once this was over. All the thoughts of dying while fighting, of the north being their grave, all of it a lie. 

Because he hoped for sapphire blue waters and the sun on his skin. And Brienne. Brienne, Brienne, Brienne, blushing and smiling while hiding her teeth from his gaze. Brienne, tackling him to the ground and demanding he surrendered and yielded. Brienne, still not believing he was hers, and him, spending his days making sure she believed it.

His body feels the pain before his mind realize it's coming. His chest suddenly heaving and the sting behind his eyes too strong for him to do anything else other than blink fast to try and prevent the tears from falling. 

But there’s no time to run.

No time to go away inside. 

His body doubles forward, and Jaime supports himself where Brienne rests, arms trying to keep himself standing while his vision blur with tears. 

He feels like he’s suffocating, but when he opens his mouth to breath, there are only gasps filling the silence in the room. 

_ “You…”  _ anger shapes his thoughts, because _that_ he knows, that is familiar. Anger and rage and hate and failure. “ _ You were supposed to  _ live _. Stupid pigheaded bloody wench! You were supposed to live!”  _ He shouts at her. 

Brienne is silent.

A memory comes to him then, unbidden, old, forgotten, of them riding beside one another, a pink dress clinging to her body with dried blood and sweat, a sullen and quiet Brienne staring ahead while Jaime tried to coax the bloody woman to say something because he couldn’t stand her silence. 

He can’t stand her silence.

He can’t.

His hand touches the skin of her arm, her shoulder, until it rests against her neck. Forehead dropping to her collarbone.

And Jaime cries.

Sobs wreck havoc within his body, his head pounding with the force of it, with the pain dragging itself from the inside to pour on Brienne’s skin.

Later he will think that’s what prevented him from seeing the signs of what was about to happen. 

What made him fail to notice Widow’s Wail and Oathkeeper glowing where they rested on the wall.

Suddenly the tight grip around his heart eases, the sobs slowly coming to a stop. 

Later, much much later, years from now, he will think about this moment while laying awake at night, while watching the body asleep next to him and tracing the freckles on her collarbones. He will lay awake trying to relive that feeling. Trying to remember what exactly felt like, the moment where everything changed.

He lifts his head from her body, stares at Brienne.

Watches her for a second. 

Two, three. 

Ten. 

The air around him shifts. From the corner of his eyes, he catches light coming from the wall by the door.

But he doesn’t have time to turn his head into that direction.

Because on the center of the room, half open empty eyes staring ahead become suddenly wide, the liquid blue vivid and bright. 

And then Brienne draws breath.    
  



	2. Chapter 2

Her chest rises and falls, her breathing harsh in an otherwise silent room.

Her eyes are the most vivid blue he has ever seen, shining under the fire burning on the hearth. 

Jaime cannot stop staring at them.

Brienne slowly sits up, large freckled hands sliding down her torso towards her belly, until she touches the skin there, the line used to mend her body closed still in place.

Her eyes drop to where her hand is, and Jaime almost protests, almost begs for her to shift her gaze back to where he can see the blue of it, but her gasp of horror at seeing the scar on her body shuts his mouth.

Brienne starts shaking violently, gasping instead of breathing in and out, and that snaps Jaime out of his shock. He reaches out his arms before she falls down on the floor, holding her while her whole body trembles. 

She’s still so cold to his touch.

_“Easy. Easy sweetling”_ Jaime’s voice is a whisper on her ear, and he takes off his own cloak, wrapping it around her. Carefully, he lowers both of them to the floor, cradling her in the circle of his arms, folding his body forward until she’s almost under him.

_“J-...Jai-…“_ she says, and the way his name tries to break free from her lips is so reminiscent of the way she whispered it while dying in his arms that his heart clenches and twists inside his chest. 

He pulls her even closer, face close to hers so his warm breath can wash over her skin.

_“Shhh. You’re alright. I have you. I have you sweetling”_ he tells her, brushing his lips on her cheek before setting back to look at her eyes again.

He doesn’t think he can bear not to stare at them for now.

Brienne keeps shaking, looking up at him with so much fear and fragility and innocence reflected in her gaze that an irrational part of him wants to fuse her to him, until his own skin can absorb her large body and carry her inside his own, away from anything that might hurt her. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He doesn’t know how long it takes for her body to stop trembling, or how long until Jon Snow and The Red Witch walk inside, the woman kneeling down beside them on the floor.

_“What have you seen? After you died?”_ She asks.

_“Nothing. There was nothing”_ Brienne’s voice is raspy, breaking in between the words. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaime takes her to his room, nobody objecting to what in any other place would be a scandal, an unmarried Lord sharing his chambers with a highborn maid. No one here cares though, least of all Jaime. 

He carries her all the way there, still wrapped on his cloak. She’s heavy, but he’s strong enough, and she’s too weak and tired to protest.

Once inside, he lays down with her under his furs, wrapping himself around her on the bed, too small for both of them to sleep comfortably. But he doesn’t care. That’s what he wants, Brienne’s body so flush with his that every breath she takes makes her chest brush his.

She’s asleep almost immediately. He wishes she wasn’t, if only so he could keep staring at her eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He barely sleeps, his mind conjuring the most horrifying scenarios of Brienne suddenly vanishing from the circle of his arms, her body becoming white wet snow and disappearing before he can do anything to stop it. 

He wakes up gasping, only to find her still by his side, curled into him with her face pressed to his neck, warm breath making him shiver.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Something wakes him up to an empty bed and the feeling of dread spreading inside his chest like wildfire, destroying everything in its path. 

Jaime stumbles out of bed, putting on his boots blindly, not finding his cloak anywhere and finally grabbing the one he brought with him from the south, not so warm as the one he used to wrap Brienne with. 

Brienne.

He steps outside his room, looking for her in a haze of despair and fear. Once, twice, he almost asks the men he finds on the way if they have seen ser, but deep down he’s afraid of their answer.

Afraid they will tell him she’s gone, a sword in her belly killing the light behind her eyes.

So he walks - runs - blindly to the room where he will have his answer.

He opens the door with too much strength, the people inside jumping at the sound of wood hitting the wall.

Jon snow, Davos, The Red Witch and-

Brienne.

Brienne, standing glorious with breeches he recognizes as his own, his own warm cloak wrapped around her, and wide blue eyes, alive.

She’s alive.

_“Wench”_ he breaths, relieved, all the tension leaving his body at once.

_“Kingslayer. I was about to send someone for you once again. We have plans to discuss. The Others… another attack is coming”._

Brienne’s eyes drift to Jon Snow, and Jaime can see the anger behind her gaze at the way the young commander referred to him.

But the warm feeling of having the wench caring for his honor even at the end of the world is fast replaced by the meaning of Jon Snow’s words.

_“Why is Brienne here?”_ He asks, voice filled with anger

That startles her, calling her attention. 

_“Your swords… the flames. You both are needed-“_ Jon starts, but doesn’t go far with his words.

_“She was dead not even a day ago and you already want to send her out there to die once more?”_

_“I will not stay behind”_ the bloody infuriating wench says, her chin jutting out defiant, a scowl already in place on her homely face.

_“You died! At this time yesterday your body laid in front of me, colder than the bloody ice on the wall! And you already want to go out there and fall on a sword once more? If that’s the case, don’t bother! I can slice your throat with Oathkeeper and spare The Others of the trouble.”_

_“And what do you suggest ser? That I stay behind while others lose their lives against the army of the dead? We are here because we pledged to fight for the living-“_

_“Leave her out of this next battle”_ Jaime says, turning to the Lord Commander and cutting off Brienne mid speech. “ _I’m sure someone else can brand Oathkeeper if that’s the problem, and-“_

_“You do_ not _get to decide for me!”_

_“I do if you’re acting like a stubborn stupid cow of a woman! You will not-“_

_“Enough!”_ Jon Snow’s voice is harsh, silencing them both.

Jaime closes his eyes, breathing deeply before opening them up and staring at her. 

She’s furious, her face red with anger, the blush spreading everywhere, accentuating her freckles. Eyes narrowed, scowling at him much like the way she used to do back when she dragged him through the Riverlands. 

He sees the sword cutting through her body, can see her falling in front of him, the red of her blood staining the white perfect blanket of snow beneath her feet.

The fear gripping his heart is like a hand squeezing it until he feels like he can’t breath. 

Jaime turns around and leaves the room.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day, or the next, besides from afar, training with the other men, having dinner at what they call the great hall. 

At some point she goes to his chambers, leaving his clothes she borrowed when she woke up folded on top of his bed. His cloak spread on top of the furs. 

Jaime swears he can smell the scent of her lingering in the air.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In the end, both of them fight on the battle to come, screams and the sound of steel against bones and flesh louder than anything else. And still, all he can think about is if she’s still alive. 

The flame on his sword a comfort and the possibility of it disappearing making him stumble and almost meet his end several times.

He doesn’t see Brienne until the battle is over. 

Covered in dirt and snow, head moving around until she spots him standing several feet to her right, her shoulder sagging in relief once they eyes meet.

She starts walking towards him. 

And all he sees is her blood gushing out from the wound on her belly, the warmth and wetness coating his hand and her clothes. 

The snow. White and red. 

White and red.

Jaime turns his back to her, and walks back towards the walls that protect them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He has never been afraid of death. Never been afraid of the day he would finally meet The Stranger. 

But at this white end of the world, he realizes the fear of losing Brienne paralyzes him. 

  
  
  
  
  


The knock on his door is soft. When he opens it, a pair of wide blue eyes stare at him, a bowl of stew in her large hand. 

_“I… you missed dinner and-”_

_“I wasn’t hungry”_ he says, walking back towards his bed and sitting down, eyes falling to his right arm. He rubs his stump with his fingers. He has been trying to sleep, but the cold is too much even with the furs on top of him, even with the privilege of sleeping on a bed instead of the cold floor like most of the other men. Being a Lannister and bringing his army to die in the North still giving him more than he truly deserves.

_“Ser Jaime, we’re at war. You need your strength.”_

_“I’ll eat if it pleases me wench. One night without food in my belly will hardly be the cause of my death. I’ll probably freeze my balls off and die from it before I starve”_

She’s silent for so long that he thinks she might have left. When he raises his head, she’s still there, standing against the closed door behind her, cheeks red, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the sea. His gaze seem to make her speak, broken words leaving her lips.

_“I...you don’t- I am not-“_

_“Out with it Brienne.”_ he says. 

She steps further inside his room, leaving the bowl of stew on top of the table before turning her gaze to him.

_“It was not your fault Ser. What happened. It won’t be, if it happens again”_ She says finally, and Jaime sits up straighter, looking at her confused. 

_“What-“_

_“I know… I know that you took responsibility for what happened to me. But it wasn’t your responsibility to take. I would… I would do it again, if it came to it. I do not regret it, and I would not- if it came to it again. Regret it, I mean. Ser”_ She’s even redder than before, eyes darting back and forth between the floor and his face.

_“You’re making no sense to me, wench. What are you on about?”_ Jaime asks her, still confused. 

_“Isn’t that why you have been acting the way you are since… since I woke up? I know… you have honor. And you… you care. For people. And you don’t think your life is valuable enough that someone would be willing to lose theirs for yours but you’re wrong Ser Jaime. You have value. There are no other Knight like you. You’re a knight worthy of songs. It pains me that… that nobody recognizes that, but I do and I… it would be a great honor to go like that, if that’s my fate. I-you… you’re under my protection still, ser. That… that hasn’t changed. It won’t. So do not feel responsible for it, don’t blame yourself. And don’t blame yourself if it happens again.”_

It’s like her words unlock something in his brain, the memory of that day, the moment he keep repeating over and over in his head gaining new colors. A new angle.

Brienne, behind him. Brienne, shouting his name. His body turning in the direction of her voice. His own voice, shouting her name. 

And then he finally sees her. Her distraction. 

What it cost her. 

The sword through her body. Her blood on the snow.

Red. White. Stained. Blood on his hands and on her body and everywhere, everywhere.

Brienne, dead. 

_“It was for me. The sword that went through you… it was for me”._ He whispers. 

_“Isn’t that why you’re-“_

_“I didn’t know. Brienne, I didn’t know.”_ He says, as if she hadn’t spoke at all. 

_“I… then why… I don’t understand”_ she says, looking at him confused. 

Eyes as blue as sapphire. Cheeks red. Larger than life, here in his room. 

_“Of course you don’t. Blind bloody wench”_ he says, standing up and walking towards her. Grabbing her face with his hand and stump and kissing her mouth with everything he has. 

  
  
  
  


He doesn’t fuck her. Even though that’s everything he wants. 

His body screams for it. Begs for it.

But he doesn’t give in.

Because he will only do that on a soft bed, with the noise of the ocean outside their room, the warmth of the sun around them, when their hearts and their souls and their flesh are bounded before The Seven and he will finally be able to call her his.

So here, in the frozen north, he contents himself with learning her body, the soft sighs leaving her lips sounding like heaven in his room.

Her bottom lip feels soft between his own, and when he bites it gently, Brienne shudders. 

Her mouth tastes sweet, tastes like something addictive, her tongue brushing his shyly. The sound escaping her at the contact swallowed by his own mouth pressed against hers. 

She smells the same on her neck as she does between her small breasts, and when he mouths at them, sucking a nipple between his lips, he’s surrounded by her scent. Her hands bury in his hair while he kisses and sucks on her skin, but where she’s all strength in battle, here in his bed she’s gentle. Even when her back arches and she trembles beneath his wet kisses, she’s delicate in a way that was always particularly hers. 

He can’t get enough of her cunt. By the time he has his face between her legs, his tongue buried inside of her, he knows he will never get enough of her taste, of the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, of the way she gasps and moans his name. He will never get enough of the strength of her thighs, of the strength he has to use to keep her spread for him. 

When she comes, Jaime replaces red on pristine white with freckles on pale flushed skin and Brienne, alive, alive, _alive,_ coming undone beneath him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“I love you”_

_“Jaime…”_

_“I cannot… when you were lying there, gone to me I… I can’t stand it again. I can’t lose you. I won’t survive it, if it happens. You’re… that’s why I was angry. I am still. I’m terrified of losing you again because I got a taste of what that was and I know I can’t survive it. I’m terrified I will see you killed and won’t be able to stop it. And I’m terrified whenever you aren’t on my sight and I don’t know if you’re alive or not. I have loved you for so long and I’m terrified that you will leave me behind and I don’t know what to do with this love inside of me if you’re not here, because there’s so much… there’s so much love for you inside of me and I… Brienne, I c-...”_

  
  


_“I love you Ser”_

_“You call me Ser when I tasted you everywhere, wench. I can taste you on my tongue still”._

_“J-... Jaime”_

_“Much better. I like the sound of my name on your lips”._

_“We’ll have to fight. We can’t… we can’t run away from it. But we’ll fight together. And we… we’ll protect each other.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The ice dragon comes, heading towards them, and when he looks at Brienne several feet behind him, he knows this is it. 

He has no choice. 

And only one chance. 

Jaime runs towards the dragon, focusing on breaking the strength of the wind pushing him backwards, his eyes watering with the cold. 

Five, four, three steps. Two. 

One.

He jumps, raising his arm and sword. Gaining momentum in the air and being face to face with the dragon before his body starts to fall, and he can no longer see the creature eyes or mouth, but his neck instead. He knows one of the several ditches they caved on the snow field is right beneath his his feet, but all he can see is his sword, flaming in his hand, the tip sliding through the dragon’s belly, the noise of steel against ice deafening, before his weapon can no longer reach the monster’s body. 

Jaime tries to brace for his fall, but he’s sure the moment he hits the ground he has at least a couple of ribs broken. An ankle probably twisted. It will be all kinds of seven hells to heal his injuries.

But at this moment he feels none of the pain. He doesn’t hear the sounds from above him, the shouts, the screams, the sudden silence. 

All he can focus on is the sword beside him, the flames still there, blue, bright.

It feels like a thousand years have passed or maybe not even a minute before he finally listens to Brienne yelling his name. 

His head turns towards the dark sky above him, the sword forgotten.

He shouts her name back, voice hoarse and for a second he’s afraid she won’t listen. That she will think him dead, gone to her. 

But then her head shows up at his line of vision, and she’s sliding down the ditch herself, so very graceful he would have laughed if it wasn’t for the tears in his eyes and the relief of seeing her alive in front of him.

She all but runs to where he is, helping him stand up before he falls with the weight of his own body.

  
  
  
  


Later, much later, Jaime will learn of what Brienne did herself. How she ran towards an ice dragon sliding on the snow in her direction, jumping right on his head, flaming sword going through his eye. How the dragon became water right beneath her feet, sending her crashing to the ground. 

They will fight and he will tell her how stupid it was to do that, that it wasn’t what they agreed, that she almost died again. What if the dragon was still alive, what if he ate her, what if he had to cut through some bizarre creature’s stomach because a certain stupid wench was too stubborn to listen to him at least once in over two lives and how-

She will cut him off with a shy kiss and the only thing that will stop him from breaking his vow of bedding her only when they marry will be the excruciating pain on his ribs. 

They will lay down on soft furs, Brienne and her warmth wrapped around him.

  
  
  
  
  


Right now, Jaime drops his forehead against hers, his stump pressing her head closer to his. Their breaths mingle, their bruises mirroring each other’s on their faces.

He can sense the light changing around them. The sky becoming light blue and soft pink. 

But all he can see is the sapphire blue of her eyes, blinking at him, so close, so close, so alive.

_“It’s over Jaime”_ she whispers against his mouth, and he closes his eyes to the feel of her, to the certainty that she’s right there with him and will be for as long as he can manage to have her, for as long as she will have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to elloise for her amazing work that inspire us everyday *cries in j/b language*

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this amazing art:
> 
> https://twitter.com/bookbrienne/status/1218911127335079936?s=21


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